


lemon eyes

by dachenabritta



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben and Rey are almost same age, F/M, Hair Pulling Kink, Porn with some plot, fresh from college babies, inspired by personal vacances, okay so there's not really plot, summer in arizona, the desert isn't the only hot thing here, vacation vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dachenabritta/pseuds/dachenabritta
Summary: Ben's graduated from college, stuck in sweltering Arizona and mind-numbinglybored.That is, until a ghost starts to haunt his parent's vacation house.Or what hethinksis a ghost.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 72
Kudos: 140





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I've been taking a break from my longer fic _beyond the veil_ and I'm actually on vacation right now in Scottsdale, AZ. I see this fic as a...therapeutic output. Yea. Let's call it that. 
> 
> It's also my first real attempt at smut. It'll be a ride, for sure (whether it's good or bad lmao).
> 
> Fic title is inspired by _Lemon Eyes_ by Meg Myers. You check out the song and music video [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqG9hsjLf3M)  
> 
> 
> DCB

_Hush now baby, there's no need to cry  
_

_Let me wipe away those lemon eyes  
_

_All your worries, such a waste of time  
_

_You can't even see how much you're mine_

_**_

Hot.

That’s the only word Ben can physically think of to describe Scottsdale, Arizona.

It’s so hot, that even a dip in the frigid pool doesn’t quell the heat of 107-degree air.

Instead, Ben remains indoors of his parent’s winter vacation home, preferring to watch TV on the hundreds of channels available, unlike his meek student subscription services back in the New Jersey apartment.

He clicks through the endless selection, trapped between the choice of _The Hurt Locker_ or a rerun of _Full House_. It doesn’t really matter what he’ll chose anyway though. The minute he chooses a channel, Ben will just go back to his phone and mindlessly scroll through social media.

Ben does not feel like a rejoicing collage graduate right now.

He’s fresh from Princeton, four years of undergrad finally complete. Ben will be transferring to Cornell to complete his remaining years of his PhD, but for now, he’s technically “celebrating” gradation with his parents, who come to Arizona for the months of November, December and January to avoid New York’s forbidding winters.

Ben, in all honestly, would rather be in his bachelor pad back in New Jersey, drinking a shitty beer and reading whatever garbage book Armitage has recently recommended him.

He didn’t bring any books with him for this trip, his father deeming them “distracting” when they’re trying to bond with their son.

And boy, what _fantastic_ bonding they’ve been doing.

Han and Leia are both passed out in recliner chairs out by the pool, sun screened backs facing up to the Arizona sun. It’s not their fault, of course; you give a fifty and sixty-year-old some tequila, retirement cash and the fatigue of a sunny day, they’re bound to clunk out before four o’clock on a Tuesday.

Ben ends up choosing _Hurt Locker_ , immediately going onto reddit and scrolling through new posts, the movie becoming background noise and loosing himself to thoughts.

His parents wanted to take him Mexico for celebration, but Ben fervently denied the trip, days of sun and tequila not really desired.

So here he sits, inside his parent’s vacation home, twenty-four, miserable and one-hundred-percent sober, celebrating four _long_ and berating years at Princeton.

Maybe he should have green-lit the Mexico trip.

The hot sorority girls go to Mexico for summer vacation.

And the only _hot_ thing here in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere Scottsdale is the temperature.

The vacation home is a five-bedroom, six-bathroom four thousand square foot monstrosity, themed after the Apache Native Americans. The rugs, hanging art, blankets, dishes, even the _pool_ are all decorated in the style, Ben finding the entire situation terribly ironic.

That’s one thing four years of liberal school will help do: recognize the hypocrisy of decorating a one-point-six-million-dollar vacation home in “honor” of a group of people whose land you’ve basically stolen.

Ben sighs, the thought of school further exhausting him and completely ignores the TV.

He looks out from the living room, through the glass slide doors to the pool. Maybe he should break out the swimming trunks and actually swim. He’s been here for four days already and hasn’t even _attempted_ to spend more than two minutes outside.

And there’s a reason for that.

The temperature reads _108_ on his weather app.

Nothing has updated on his phone. He doesn’t have homework anymore. No books, video games or friends here.

_The desert_ , Ben finally declares, _is fucking boring._

**

Dinner is a poor attempt at grilled chicken and corn, his father almost burning the entire meal when he closes the barbeque lid and just _forgets_ about the food, sitting on the rocker chair inside for twenty minutes.

Ben is actually the one to notice Han in the house, leaving behind the barbeque and dinner, and checks the clock with careful scrutiny, noticing that it does _not_ take that long to grill thin slices of chicken.

They’re all surrounded by charred, but edible food when they sit down to eat.

“And tonight,” his mother says to their small family at the dining table, “we would like to thank Benjamin for saving our food from his father’s terrible cooking skills.”

Han is first to react. “Hey! I remembered it was out there!”

Ben takes a bite of the corn, mumbling to on one but himself, “ _No you fucking did not…”_

They all eat, _Elvis’s Greatest Hits Volume 2_ playing softy in the background, and no more words spoken to each other.

Ben is not much of a chatter box around his parents.

Actually, Ben doesn’t really talk all that much _always._

And when he does, you bet there will be at least one profanity mixed into whatever the hell he pipes out.

After all the forks have ceased their scraping, and the plates are cleared, Ben gathers up all the dishes and goes to wash them without request. His mother smiles at him when he does so.

Ben is rinsing one of the serving plates when Leia follows him into the kitchen, his father returning to god knows where.

“Thank you, Ben. Really.”

He looks up from the sink to see her remaining smile, his heart stupidly jumping.

He presumes that will happen when your parents are partially absent your entire adolescent life. Any type of affection is like being hit by a truck going one-hundred-and-fifty miles an hour.

“Of course, Mom,” is all he says back.

The scalding sun doesn’t fully set for another hour, the hot air still enveloping the air-conditioned house. Ben is in such a remarkably good mood after dinner that he decides maybe going outside _now_ wouldn’t be as bad. The temperature is down to 98.

So, with some hesitation, he changes into swim trunks for the first time the entire vacation, throws on his loosest t-shirt and heads out to the back-patio pool.

The first thing that hits him is the _heat,_ of course, but it’s not as horrible as he thought.

The pool’s water is turning orange and pink due to the now setting sun illuminating the house from the west side. He sticks a foot into the chlorinated water, testing out the temperature. It’s cold but not _that_ cold.

He brought his waterproof speaker with him and puts on some random Spotify playlist. The sun is down enough that he forgoes the sunscreen, even though Ben is probably the palest person in Arizona right now.

The last time Ben jumped into a pool was seven years ago, on a different family vacation that he doesn’t remember. Leia loved to whisk away the family on expensive trips, due to international meeting she had to attend anyways. The money for the trips was later funneled into purchasing the desert house.

With a tug, he takes off his heathered t-shirt with one hand, ruffling his hair as he does so.

When Ben’s head clears the shirt, he hears shaking branches and looks over to one of the nearby bushes, which is rustling.

It’s probably a bird or hare, Arizona holding a natural abundance of said animals.

He shakes it off and proceeds to jump into the pool. The water rushes around him, cool and refreshing.

It’s the feeling of relief. A feeling of freedom.

_Why didn’t he swim earlier?_

He breaks through the surface, shaking the water from his hair like a wet dog. There’s not much to do in a pool when you’re alone, so he just listens to the early 2000’s playlist and wades around in circles.

The sound of cracking draws his attention to the same bush again, this time much louder and enough to scare away the nearby creatures.

The pool has a vanishing edge at the farthest end that overlooks the valley’s desert. The dried greenery and animals are all in easy view when he swims to the brink, wet eyes trying to decipher _what_ exactly is making the noise.

It’s not a bird, he figures. Maybe some kind of coyote? He’s not sure which animals roam Arizona.

They have neighbors technically, if you could call them that. It’s more like a few scattered houses and ranches in a ten miles radius that hardly interact. There is a wooden fence close to their backyard though, which Ben assumes is the border of a ranch.

With absolutely no hope, Ben finally says “hello?”

The bush stills at his voice.

Okay so maybe someone _is_ there.

But then nothing else happens. The only thing that makes a sound is a colony of crickets, preparing for dusk.

So, with a shrug, Ben turns around and swims to the other end of the pool, leaving behind whatever the hell was watching him from the dry foliage.

**

It’s not until lunch the next day, comprised of tuna fish sandwiches and gas station chips, that Ben’s curiosity finally weighs heavy enough on his mind to ask.

“Hey Mom,” he says quietly, “is there anyone living at the ranch next door? I saw horses earlier and a truck.”

Leia is mid-bite of her sandwich, so she chews while scrunching her eyebrows in thought.

“Hmmm.” She swallows.

“I think it’s an older man? He’s lived there for fifty years or something, I’m not sure. We met him when we first came out here.”

“Really?” Ben asks his mother, hoping she’s incorrect.

She frowns, _really_ concentrating this time.

“Yes, and his name is Obi or something like that. Your father really liked him, from what I remember.”

An old man was watching Ben from the bushes while he swam yesterday?

_Gross._

He doesn’t want the situation to become even weirder than it already is within his head, so Ben just nods and continues to munch away at his sandwich.

If Leia suspects anything out of the ordinary, she doesn’t verbalize it.

Today is hotter, which shouldn’t even be possible. The desert is scorching by the time it reaches three o’clock, Ben remaining in his guest room with the A/C on full blast.

Also, he is _not_ in the mood to swim again.

For a couple obvious reasons.

Ben sits at his laptop on the bed, watching YouTube and drinking a mixed concoction his mother created for him. It’s fruity, a girl’s drink if anyone would ask, but Ben likes it anyways.

He couldn’t give two shits if he was caught with such a feminine cocktail. His build and height gladly compensate.

He takes a long swig, then another, eyes glassed over, mindlessly watching the screen.

A thought kicks in the back of his head.

The living situation back in NJ is a cramped, three-bedroom apartment comprised of two other roommates and thin walls. Privacy isn’t exactly available. And boys are disgusting.

Han and Leia are both outside by the pool, like usual. His room is set on the second floor, on the opposite end of the deck, far, far away from prying ears and eyes.

Ben really shouldn’t.

But it’s _his_ vacation. _His_ time off. _His_ time for relaxation.

The incognito tab is opened before he overthinks it.

Just a few videos, Ben tells himself.

Then he’ll go take a nice, hot shower and have the time of his fucking life whacking off under the stream.

_Boy logic._

God, Ben can’t even _remember_ the last time he had the kind of time and space to do this. Sure, he had the few girlfriends in late high school and early college, all _extremely_ sexually active.

But sometimes alone time is just _better._

Ben can’t help it. He prefers solitude most the times, anyways.

Annoyingly though, the time of pornographic peace is interrupted half-way through the first video when Ben hears a strange noise.

This time, it’s something _thudding_ downstairs. Against the ground? He can’t tell.

At first, he ignores it, turning the video’s volume up.

But one particular _thud_ is loud enough to echo up the wall.

_What the hell-_

With a frustrated groan, Ben shuts his laptop and adjusts his shorts to the best of his ability, making his way down the flight of stairs to the room directly below him.

It’s the game room. There’s a used air hockey table and a few other games like shuffleboard and chess.

Ben’s been in here maybe once. He inspects the windows outside, thinking it might be a bird hitting the glass, or maybe his dad banging stupidly on the deck. His eyes search the gaming tables, then up to the walls.

There’s a dart board directly under the shuffleboard. On the target sits three darts, pierced into the porous surface.

Were those there before?

Ben wouldn’t know. He forgot this room even existed.

With a few long strides, he approaches it. Whoever threw them has pretty good aim: all the darts are careened around the bullseye.

His hand goes up to remove them, and when he grips the dart, he’s shocked to find the metal _warm._

_Like someone was holding them less than a minute ago._

There’s a door in the game room that leads directly to the driveway. Still holding the tantalizing projectile, Ben crosses the room to the door, grabbing the handle and turning.

The door opens right up.

_It wasn’t locked._

That is very unlike his mother, to leave doors open like that.

Which means this was _not_ his mother.

Ben isn’t scared. He doesn’t _get_ scared. But he won’t deny that there’s an extra nervous tick in each step he takes towards the back-patio’s sliding doors.

Leia is awake and swimming when Ben comes stomping to the pool’s edge, a dart in one hand, and the other completely balled into a fist.

“Were you or dad playing darts a minute ago?”

Leia quirks a brow and removes her sunglasses. “Uh, no. Why?”

“Holy fuck…” Ben breaths out. “So then there _was_ an intruder.”

Concern blares a bit more when he says _that._

“What on earth are you talking about Benjamin? An intruder?”

“The darts.” He shows her, like a child showing off a broken toy. “The darts were _warm._ And I heard them. Someone was throwing them.”

Leia doesn’t say anything. She just gives Ben a couple once-overs, then swims to the edge of the pool to grab her drink.

“Aren’t you drinking right now?”

“Well, yea but-“

“Ben.” She stops him. “I think you need to lay off the booze for an afternoon. And maybe take a nap. I know your brain is wrung out because of school.”

Ben is _not_ in the mood to argue. But he’s not crazy.

Right?

How could an old man run out so fast? If it was their neighbor, of course. If not, then who?

A ghost?

It’s too warm to argue. Instead, Ben nods in defeat and heads back to oasis of air-conditioning that won’t come close to extinguishing the burning curiosity.

It’s too fucking hot for this shit.


	2. ii

_You're so bitter, bitter, bitter, yellow_

_Settle, settle, got to settle, down okay_

_Listen, listen, you listen, yellow_

_It's a killer, a killer, a killer, jealousy_

**

It’s been three days.

_Three_ long, agonizing and torturous days.

The house is definitely haunted.

It’s not old man Obi. There’s literally no way. No creature can rush through the house as fast as _whatever_ it is can. Ben never sees anything. Doesn’t feel anything.

A ghost is the only explanation.

Ben starts to keep track of whatever noises or things he finds on the laptop’s notepad, and ends up carrying the device everywhere, every day, like it’s some extension of his arm.

_Wed 06/15/20 9:06_

_Refrigerator door opens and closes, couple cabinets shut, bowl left on counter_

_Thu 06/16/20 11:43_

_Shuffleboard makes a sound, game room door opens and closes, more bowls on counter and milk is missing_

That’s one note Ben _does_ tell his parents about. Han likes to eat cereal every morning and will blame Ben for drinking all of it if it’s mysteriously gone.

Ben does _not_ mention that he thinks the jug of milk has gone missing due to a possible spirit lurking the house.

_Thu 06/16/20 15:28_

_Footsteps on staircase, hallway, back downstairs_

The fact that he has all this proof actually calms him.

It means Ben is not crazy.

He hopes.

More things continue to go missing. A couple of dishes, a pair of socks he had left by the front door, a bottle of dish soap and the _oddest_ thing: their box set of _Friends Season 3_ on DVD.

His parents never notice anything out of the usual.

Watching TV is useless. Anytime there’s a slight noise outside of the screen’s volume, he immediately mutes, head turning whatever direction the sound came from.

After a few times doing this over a period of two days or so, Ben realizes it’s the surround sound speaker in the kitchen, directly behind the living room, that’s been vibrating and shaking the cabinets’ dishes.

Every night he thinks he hears footsteps on the roof, like some deranged Santa Claus is attempting to break in.

_I am not going crazy,_ Ben tells himself.

_This isn’t the fucking Shining or some shit_.

Then, he’s taking a shower Friday morning when a faint tapping emits from the window above the bathroom’s sink and mirror.

Ben is mid-shampoo and rinsing when he hears it, rushing to remove all lingering soap from his hair. He pokes his head though the glass door, neck bending to the window to better catch the sound again.

_Tap-tap-tip-tap._

He hears it clear as hell this time.

With every odd sound, no matter where Ben is or what time of the day, he chases after it with ambition, desperate to catch the ghost causing such stress for him.

This time is no different.

He quickly wraps a towel around, runs down the stairs, out the side door, to the exterior of the house where the window sits.

But all Ben sees is low-hanging palm tree, off center to the wall, that’s swinging back and forth in the twilight air and making small _tap_ sounds to the glass anytime the wind picks up.

He groans _and_ sighs.

So much for a ghost sighting.

And this time, he actually _knows_ what’s making the sound, just like the kitchen speaker.

“God _fucking dammit.”_

Might as well use his words since no one’s around.

Ben goes on a swearing rampage, letting curse words he’s hasn’t vocalized since junior high easily spill out; a wet, bare foot stomping into the ground and creating mud beneath him.

“Shit! _Fuck_ this shit! _Fuck_ this heat and this stupid _fucking sand!_ ”

He keeps kicking and stomping. A few dogs begin to bark at the ranch next door when his voice raises to a volume louder than it’s been for years. 

Ben needs to get ahold of himself.

He takes a breath, ceasing all movement and turns to the setting sun. The pinking light is hypnotizing and the only reason why he is not _totally_ losing his mind at this very moment.

The hissy fit wears him out. Ben’s re-showered and in bed by nine o’clock, which is normal for an eight-year-old child, but not really for a twenty-four-year-old college graduate who has some mommy issues and twenty thousand in savings.

He opens up the window in the guest room, the moonlight air blowing a breeze through hazy curtains. The birds have gone to sleep. The neighbor’s lights are off. Not a single car or plane goes by. The only thing he hears is the chirping of crickets when he passes out.

He hears the crickets again when he half-wakes a couple hours later, dropping back to the pillow and knocking out once more.

The second time he wakes up, he swears he hears a gate open and close. _Their_ gate. To the pool.

But he must be dreaming. It’s late and Ben’s woozy.

His eyes drop once more.

But then third time’s the charm.

It must be early morning at this point, because the moonlight has since been replaced with muted, yellow hue. With a quick check of his phone, the time reads 5:07 am.

And there’s another sound.

The pool’s water is lapping at the stone edges. And there’s some splashing.

Ben is down the stairs in seconds, creeping as soft as physically possible for a man his size and around the corner of the kitchen, peering through the glass doors to see the pool.

It’s just the water. Moving because of the morning wind.

It’s hard to tell. The pool faces the west part of the house, so the rising sun filters through the front door’s windows rather onto the back patio.

Must be another false alarm.

He’s about to move from his hiding spot behind the granite counter and go back to bed when something sloshes around in the pool and rises from the water.

There is no ghost.

There’s a _girl._

_An entire fucking real and alive person._

She swims to the pool’s staircase, taking slow steps up as she wrings the water from her auburn hair.

Ben’s eyes go a bit wider and his pants get a little tighter when her feet meet the top step and she completely leaves the water.

The girl wears nothing but two pieces of jewelry: a watch (he thinks) on her wrist, and a silver necklace with something hanging off it.

_No swimsuit._

Huh.

She’s still squeezing her hair and there’s no towel in sight. The breeze must be warm enough to air dry completely and it doesn’t _look_ like she’s shivering.

Meanwhile, Ben has completely lost any semblance of thought, speech or movement.

His body is frozen. All he can do is watch, which he really _shouldn’t_ be doing.

_Is this voyeurism?_

It’s not a kink Ben has ever been into, but it sure as hell is casting some horny curse on him this moment, while he’s watching this nude girl now shake the water off her legs.

She circles the pool’s perimeter and goes to the platform next to the vanishing edge, her backside now turned to Ben.

She’s looking at the sunrise against the mountains. Dawn is slowly illuminating the hills, rock formation and desert.

Ben is looking at nothing but her round and perfect ass.

Her wrist turns as she checks the time, looks back to house, then back to the watch.

She runs around the pool edge and takes the terra cotta steps down to the side yard gate in a hurry. With sharp eyes, Ben follows her naked form though the backyard, where she takes a running start and _hurdles_ the wooden blockade that separates their property and Obi’s ranch.

The mystery of the house ghost isn’t a mystery after all.

But now there’s many more questions that now weigh on his mind.

_They’ll be solved,_ Ben hopes.

The sun has completely risen, light trickling through the house and kitchen, not even a minute after she left.

Her timing was impeccable.

**

“Ben!”

Leia calls loudly from the kitchen to Ben, who’s throwing darts in the game room. He’s been strengthening his shuffleboard and dart skills in the past couple days and it has absolutely nothing to do with the possibility of catching the mysterious girl sneaking in again.

Absolutely no relation at all.

“ _Benjamin!”_

Her tone is insistent this time. Leia hasn’t been pushy during entire trip. She wanted Ben to be relaxed.

That’s still a debate he’s holding in his head.

This trip has either been the most frustrating time of his life or the best.

There’s hasn’t been a single weird noise in the past three days. No signs of the girl. No bowls or plates left on the counter. No food or soap mysteriously missing. Not even the footsteps on the roof.

Ben throws the last dart in his hand and it lands on the box outside of the target. Not his best shot, but he brushes it off and moves into the kitchen where his mother is leaning a hip on the counter, a phone book in front of her and her cellphone in hand.

“Yes?”

She closes the book and sets down the cellphone. “I found Obi’s phone number in the Yellowpages. He’s home and remembers us and I know you were asking about him a week ago.”

Has it already been _eleven_ days here in Arizona? That would make tomorrow Saturday and Ben’s last day of vacation.

“Okay,” is all he replies with.

“He’s invited us over.”

_Great._ Socializing with oddball neighbors was _not_ on his agenda today.

“So, we’re going over for lunch.”

“But-“ he protests.

“No _buts,_ it’ll be nice to meet our neighbor. Turns out he watches over our property when we’re not here. We should thank him with a bottle of booze or something.”

With that, Leia moves over to the freezer and pulls out the glass bottle of Kraken. Bows and strings are not her thing, so she just grabs a plastic grocery bag and stuffs the alcohol in there.

“Go change into shorts. The walk is going to be hot.”

And that’s how Ben finds himself ten minutes later, sweating through his goddamn balls in a tank top and shorts, trudging over the Scottsdale landscape to old man Obi’s house.

This must be how the fugitives of the wild west felt when they were chained to horses and dragged through the desert to the nearest jail cell.

His mother is sweating and huffing too, but she’s doing her best to hide it.

Obi’s house is tiny compared to his ranch. It’s one-story, falling apart and creaking with the footsteps of the owner inside. They walk up the dirt path, past the trash and chairs in the front yard, to the burnt orange door.

Leia knocks hard against the wood, since there’s no doorbell.

The shuffling inside halts for a moment, then ramps up again towards the front of the house.

The door swings wide open.

It’s _not_ Obi.

Unless Obi is actually an attractive, hazel-eyed, young woman.

It’s the girl. _The_ girl.

_Holy shit._

The mystery of where she lives is apparently solved.

One down, four to go.

Their eyes met but then quickly look away, a weird secret shared between the two. Which is _technically_ true _,_ since Ben knows _exactly_ who she is from the breaking-in and naked swimming, and Ben suspects she’s been spying on _him._ It explains the bush incident a week ago.

From the look of sheer surprise, coupled with the lightweight tank top and short shorts, it doesn’t appear she was informed that guests were coming over. She says nothing in greeting. Doesn’t invite them in. Doesn’t move the door in the slightest.

Leia picks up on the awkward energy and is first to speak, seeing that neither of them have the capacity to talk.

“Ah, hello! Is Obi there? We’re from next door, at 2601.”

The girl’s eyes dart to Leia, as she takes a shaky breath then resets her composure. A fake smile spreads across her face as she goes to shake Leia’s hand.

“I’m Rey. Obi is m-my grandpa. He’s, um, out at the pasture.”

She shakes a little _too_ hard. Leia nearly jumps up and down with the force. “Nice to meet you…?”

“Leia Organa-Solo.” She motions to Ben. “And this is my son, Benjamin.”

Ben shuts him mouth. He didn’t notice that his jaw has been dropped the entire time.

The girl’s hand hesitantly moves to Ben, where he grips with such gentleness that it’s like shaking a wet fish.

And he says nothing.

“Sorry about him. He’s not much of a talker,” Leia laughs off her son’s awkwardness.

It doesn’t work well. The silence that follows is painful and defining.

“Uh, so…”

Ben gulps.

“Do you want to…come in? My grandpa is out back. He’s coming in soon.”

Leia’s smile grows even wider. She adores an invitation. “Of course! We brought him a thank-you present for the occasion. It’s for you too of course, if you can legally drink it.”

She removes the Kraken from the bag as they all follow Rey into the house, and it’s set on the small dining table in the kitchen.

“Oh yes. I can drink that. I’m well over twenty-one.” She grabs the bottle and moves it to the kitchen counter. “Thank you.”

Well _that_ solves another mystery.

Two down, three to go.

The three of them take seats at the dining table after Rey sets down a bowl of fruit from the fridge. The back door suddenly opens, and old man Obi appears, covered in dirt and sweating like there’s no tomorrow.

He looks to be seventy or older, a grass cowboy hat on his head and wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. _Not_ an outfit Ben would actively choose to wear in the hell of weather.

Obi observes the table with acute awareness, suddenly remembering about the guests he had invited over just ten minutes prior.

“Hello there!” he beckons out with such enthusiasm that Ben is taken physically aback.

Leia shakes the old man’s hand, exchanging greetings and talking about the heat and the two estates.

Meanwhile, Ben turns his face to the girl sitting directly across in the flimsy dining chair.

Rey’s looking down, hard. Hazel eyes are so focused on the white and yellow tablecloth that is appears she’s trying to memorize the fabric’s pattern. Or lasers will start beaming from them and blow up the house. Either is possible.

_Interesting._

Ben is so caught up in staring that when Obi sets down plates of sandwiches and fruits, the sound makes the young adults jump in their seats and the older ones take notice.

“Whoa! Didn’t mean to scare you two there!” Obi laughs out.

Rey gives him a nervous giggle and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Ben has no reaction whatsoever. It’s in his nature to speak or flinch like that.

Leia and Obi make small talk through the chewing of sandwiches. They bring up Obi’s property and two stallions, Leia’s previous job for the U.S senate, and most importantly, about the time when the Organa-Solo house _isn’t_ occupied.

Obi motions over to Rey. “We’re surprised you guys are here for the summertime. July is our hottest month. I gave Rey the spare key Han lent us five years ago. He asked us to check the A/C and whatnot, so we’ve been safeguarding it all whenever you guys are away.”

Rey turns a shade pinker.

“Rey dear,” Obi says to her. “You have the key on you right now, correct?”

Her throat bobs painfully, stuck mid-swallow.

“ _Uh_ , yea.”

Her tiny hand reaches under the edge of her white tank top and fishes out the end of her necklace. When she lifts it up and out from the valley of her chest, a silver key hangs off the chain.

A key to _their_ house.

That alone solves _two_ whole mysteries: _what_ she was wearing around her neck at the pool and _how_ she was able to enter the house without breaking the locks.

The only question left now is _why?_

_Why_ sneak into the house when she knows people are home? _Why_ climb onto the roof every night?

_And why swim naked in the early hours of the morning?_

“You know it’s funny…” Leia says. “I don’t remember you having a granddaughter. Did we meet her back in 2014?”

Rey stashes the key again the second the topic changes.

“She’s only in town usually during the summer. That’s when school gets out and she takes the quarter off.”

Obi is sitting next to Rey and slaps a large hand to her back for approval, Rey letting out an _oof!_ as he does so.

“But she just graduated! I’m the proud grandfather of a college graduate!”

Leia matches the delighted beaming, grabbing at Ben’s arm.

“How wonderful! Ben just completed his undergrad at Princeton. He’s here celebrating with us. They must nearly the same age then?”

“I’m twenty-three,” Rey whispers out before her grandpa can answer. She’s squirming in her seat, the sandwich laying untouched.

The entire table picks up on the uncomfortable energy surrounding Ben and Rey. It’s not hard to miss. They aren’t eating. They’re not speaking. Hell, they can’t even _look_ at each other.

His mother clears his throat and stands up.

Ben can always depend on Leia to help diffuse a situation.

“Thank you for lunch this afternoon, Rey and Mr. Obi. My husband is expecting us back any minute now, and I would hate to keep him waiting.”

Obi rises after her, the chair scraping against the tile below. One wrinkly hand takes the other.

“Of course. You tell Han to come along next time. I haven’t spoken to him since you folks bought the place.”

The adults wait for the other pair to exchange goodbyes as well.

“Bye!” Rey squeaks, mostly to Leia.

Then, in a flash, she whips around the table, and runs down the hallway, out of sight.

Leia is confused. And kind of offended. Ben can see it in the way her eyebrows rise.

“Kids…” old man Obi sighs, trying to excuse the behavior. “What will we do with ‘em?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you all in chapter 3 >: 3


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay...so like...don't kill me but I upped the chapter count...
> 
> whoops
> 
> (I couldn't help it okay??? They are both too fucking weird)
> 
> also [HERE](https://twitter.com/dachenabritta/status/1280169753919680515) is the pool and game room of the house. I took some pics before we left today. Hope it gives a better visual.

_Lemon eyes, you're mine_

_Yellow eyes, all mine_

_I bet you wanna walk away, run away, look away, turn away_

_Honey you can't hide_

_Lemon eyes, all mine_

**

Round and round Rey goes, in a circle of grass that is dented and dead from thousands of footsteps.

She’s biting her nails. The nerves never left after lunch.

_How did it get so out of control?_

She was lucky to put down three bites of lasagna for dinner.

_How did **everything** get so out of control?_

She had no idea they’d be back in the summer. That’s fine. So, she would just stay out, even if she _did_ have a key.

The older couple is nice. They like to drink and lay by the pool. That’s obvious by their second day here.

Nothing to worry about.

Until their _son_ decided to take a dip in the pool one evening.

Then this whole thing became a game.

A heart-thumping, adrenaline fueled and chaotic _game_.

It started with the darts. That was easy enough. She’s thrown darts in that game room for years now.

Next was the bowls of cereal. Then stealing the soap….and the socks, the DVDs, the forks, the towels….

Rey is a grown-ass woman. She should _not_ be sneaking into someone’s house when they are _actively living in it_ and _steal their things._

There’s a framed diploma hanging in her apartment back home for god’s sake.

With a huff, she heads back into the shack of a house, dirty and dusty feet tracking all over the floors without a care. Her grandpa didn’t bring up any of awkwardness about lunch and he’s already off to bed, some old western movie playing in the background of his room.

The sun has disappeared; bright, white moonlight replaces its beam.

It’s the perfect night to go onto the neighbor’s roof and-

_No._

Rey can’t do that anymore.

What is someone sees her?

What if _he_ sees her?

She gulps, eyes locked on the milky sky, stars shining through the blackened curtain of night.

_And what **if** he sees her? _

Rey is out the door, key around her neck, with no shoes and no good intentions.

**

The gate unlocks quietly and efficiently. Rey tiptoes the entire way up the stone pathway, up to the patio, past the house and onto the spiral staircase that connects the bottom floor to the roof.

The family here, the _Solos_ if she remembers correctly, never come up to the roof. She’s left a couple empty beer bottles, a flashlight and a sleeping bag up on the roof’s deck, and they’ve said nothing about it. All of the supplies are for her late-night star gazing.

The reusable Safeway bag _filled_ with the shit she’s stolen over the last week is _not_ for stargazing.

This part of the roof is flat, meant for actual recreational use, but Rey prefers to scale the plastered ridges that lead to the highest part of the house.

She climbs with practiced ease and sits on the flattened beam, looking up to constellations, anxiety tamed to basically nothing.

Every star appears to be visible tonight.

Rey’s eyes follow Orion’s Belt, the Big Dipper and even Saturn, which is right below the glowing moon.

She sighs. Today has been an absolute _mess._

And it’s about to get even _messier._

Because Rey hears the pool gate open, and footsteps thud on the metal staircase.

There’s nowhere for Rey to run. She can’t scale down the roof and jump off; it’s a two story drop to the patio. And the _other_ exit is now preoccupied.

Oh god, if it’s Mrs. Organa-Solo, then she’ll be verbally berated in the middle of the night. If it’s _Mr_. Solo, she’s worried he’ll call the police.

Rey sits terrified and still, holding her breath and eyes locked to the top of the staircase.

But the suspense is too much and she screws her eyes shut, curling herself into a frightened ball on top of the beam.

_This game isn’t fun anymore._

The creaking stops. Whoever is here has reached the upper deck and is saying nothing. Not even moving.

So, Rey cracks open her eyes very, _very_ carefully to see that…

It’s the boy.

_The_ boy.

Why is she relieved? Rey shouldn’t be.

He is the first _and_ last person in the entire world Rey wants to see.

“Umm…” is all she can say.

Similar to lunch time, the boy, _Ben,_ says nothing back.

“Uh, sorry. About…being here.” All Rey can think to do is apologize, since she’s been caught red-handed. “And the darts. And uh…literally everything else.”

Ben just stares up at her, jaw dropped again and eyes wide.

_And_ …there’s no response back from him.

There appears to be some kind of frantic monologue crazing through his head. Rey can see it in his eyes.

He really _isn’t_ much of a talker. Damn.

But there’s nothing else to say. He knows. _She_ knows.

_Now how the hell do I make this situation not awkward and illegal?_

“Do you…want to come join me? The stars are pretty tonight.”

Much to her surprise, Ben nods, removes his flip-flops and climbs up the clay tile to the beam Rey sits on. He keeps his eyes downcast the entire time, either too afraid or nervous to meet hers.

They sit in silence, crickets chirping and the breeze whistling past their bodies.

Ben clears his throat. “The, um, stars. They’re nice.”

He’s still looking down at the tiles. He’s not even _looking_ up at the sky.

“Yep.” Rey swallows. “Those are stars.”

_Well no shit, Sherlock._

His eyes finally rise up to the sky and follow one of the several constellations. Ben didn’t hear her awful response, thank god.

She turns to face him and looks. _Really_ looks.

Ben is attractive, but she already knew that. Dark hair frames his long face and nearly touches his broad shoulders. He’s wearing a tank top that boasts arms that could easily snap the trunk of a tree like a toothpick.

He’s dressed similar to Rey in her same pajama shirt and short shorts from earlier, since the night is still a sweltering 94 degrees.

He is sweating. But it doesn’t appear to be from the heat. And Rey might be too.

“That’s _Arcturus,_ right?” Ben points up to an especially bright star, slightly west to Orion’s belt.

Rey follows his finger and confirms in her head that, _yes_ , that is _Arcturus._

“Oh yea!” she says. “You’ve got a good eye. Where did you learn that?”

He blushes a little at the enthusiasm in Rey’s voice. “My uncle. He, uh, taught me about that stuff when I was kid. About space and other stuff.”

Rey’s never heard him talk this much. His voice is low and rumbling. She quite likes it.

She stretches her arms up, more comfortable with his presence now, even though she really _shouldn’t_ be, and leans back to gaze farther up.

“My grandpa adores the stars. And the desert. It’s one of the reasons he moved out here to Scottsdale fifty years ago.”

The breeze picks up a bit more, dust and sand swirling in the cool heat of the desert. A few creatures scurry in the night.

“Obiwan, my grandpa, mostly moved here because of cowboy movies. Back in the sixties he was some law-breaking greaser and he watched old Western movies to help escape his shitty home life.”

Rey folds her legs underneath her, the non-existent chill of the night getting to her.

“When he graduated high school, he threw away his leather jacket and switch blade, packed up everything else and moved out here. Told his parents he was the next Ringo Kid. And he hasn’t left since.”

Her eyes are set on the McDowell Mountains as she imagines rugged cowboys riding horseback through this very sand dune. Whenever Rey tells her grandfather’s story, which is hardly ever, she gets it. There’s a certain romance shared between man and nature; indescribable yet understandable.

When her gaze falls away from the scenery and back to Ben, though, he’s staring at _her._ Not the sky. Or the mountains. _Her._

She immediately blushes, realizing again that this is _not_ her roof. For god’s sake, this isn’t even her _home_.

He’s having small talk with a _burglar._ Ben is looking at her like that because she is a _criminal_.

…right?

“You know, all of this is just _silly_. Silly, silly _bullshit._ ” Rey begins to sit up, furious at herself for thinking _anything_ different. “Sorry that I’m weird. I’ll leave now.”

He’s frozen in space while she stretches a tanned leg over his and begins to descend back down the clay tiles.

“W-wait.”

A warm hand catches her forearm, stopping her mid-step.

_Sweet mother of Jesus Christ his hands are fucking huge._

“I don’t think-you’re not… okay _,_ you’re a _little_ weird, but I don’t think-“

He gulps.

“I don’t think... this is silly bullshit.”

_That_ was _not_ what Rey expected him to say. Actually, if she’s being honest, Rey didn’t expect him to say _anything._

And why does it make her even more _furious_?

“Don’t think _what_ is silly?” she snaps at him, for no reason. “Talking about my grandpa’s cowboy cinematic past and the stupid stars _or_ the fact that I keep _stealing your shit and breaking in whenever I feel like it?”_

Rey wedges his hand from its grip and jumps down to the upper deck, too quick for Ben to catch up in time. If she stomps loudly, she’ll wake up the other members of his family, but Rey does anyways, letting the anger _roll_ though her.

Ben grabs her arm _again_ and stops her before a foot can be set on the metal staircase.

“What,” he breaths out behind, “ _the fuck?_ ”

The wind stops blowing. Crickets cease their chirping.

And the events of the past week dump over Rey like a bucket of ice water.

She’s stilled, at first. But then her shoulders start to shake. Tears form at her eyes and drip before she has a chance to catch them, all the while Rey doesn’t dare _one_ glance back at Ben.

This is what happens when you're born numb. Emotionless. Typically uncaring, like Rey.

You’ll seek high-risk, high-reward activities like bungee jumping, gambling or robbing your neighbor’s house all for the chance to feel _something._ Something besides the gray void of nothingness that sits in your belly.

And boy, when you find that thrill, that _high,_ you can’t stop. It becomes addicting. You want to further it. Do something even _more_ risky that yields an even _better_ reward.

…like swimming naked in said neighbor’s pool _while they’re home._

_And with the sick hope of being caught._

Adrenaline creates a wonderful high. Junkies always crave it for a reason.

But the crash? Not _quite_ the same. 

And that’s _exactly_ what’s happening to Rey now. She’s crashing hard, on the roof, Ben gripping her arm with unpracticed strength as she sobs down to the ground, tears falling on dried concrete.

“ _Please,_ for the love of Jesus,” he begs her, “tell me _what the fuck is going on?”_

A few sniffles escape Rey, as lowered eyes turn oh so slowly back to Ben. She’s staring at his bare feet now. They’re ginormous compared to hers.

“Th-the pool. In the morning, an-and at lunch, you _didn’t_ -you said _nothing_ -“

Ben carefully removes his grip as Rey’s stuttering words begin to hit him.

“You said absolutely _nothing_ about seeing me in your pool that morning.”

There. It’s fucking out.

The _one_ thing about this entire situation that’s meant anything is finally out.

“How did- _wait_ -you _knew_ I was watching you, an-and you just…let me watch?”

Rey nods. “I saw you sneak into the kitchen before I went under the water.”

She hates the silence that follows. If there’s any superpower Rey could ever have, it would telepathy, hands down.

That way, she could figure what the hell is going on inside this confused boy’s head.

“…Why?”

That's a good question. “Is it too easy to just say I’m a little freaky and like to swim in the nude?”

“Yes,” he bites back.

Rey rubs at her wet face, tears drying quickly in the hot air.

“I was hoping…”

Her voice is so quiet, Ben leans down to hear her.

“…that you would catch me.”

He takes in a breath, quick and shuddering, as Rey finally musters enough energy to look up at his tall form with red-rimmed eyes. She can’t remember the last time she cried. Probably as a baby.

Rey expects confusion. Or horror. Or maybe, if she’s a lucky bitch, _pity._

But none of those emotions are present.

Instead, there’s _hunger._

_Hunger_ in his eyes, in his grin, even in his quirked brow.

“So…you’re the type of girl that needs a thrill or two to get it going?”

Rey swallows, painfully. Her heart is going to beat out of her chest. And it takes a _shit_ ton of adrenaline to get her heart to do _anything._ So yes, he’s right. Rey _is_ that type of girl, whether she likes it or not.

She nods.

“And what _other_ type of thrills do you look for?” Ben purrs out. “Besides committing non-violent felonies, of course.”

This is it. This will be her highest high, her farthest trip.

It’s either go fucking big or fuck yourself at home.

And it looks like Rey will be fucking _something_ big at least.

“ _Anything.”_  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eehhee the lyrics for this chapter went SO well with the content. Thank you, Meg Myers. 
> 
> Also, would this be considered blue balling...or yellow balling?
> 
> \---
> 
> ...I'll see myself out now, thank you.


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh. ahahaha. ahahahhaha.
> 
> 4k words of smut. And it's SMUT-SMUT. My first time trying this stuff. So be nice plz.
> 
> Sorry for delay!! Hope it was worth it!!

_Hold on baby, careful what you say_

_You've been drinking someone else's pain_

_I can't keep on staring at the sun_

_Yellow, I will have to bite your tongue_

**

Much to his initial surprise, _Ben_ is the one to reach down and hungrily capture Rey’s lips.

Her neck bends backwards at the sheer force of his kiss. It takes a second for Rey to gain composure, but soon enough, she’s pressing harder into him, mouth devouring his in a fight of intimate dominance.

Ben doesn’t think too much about it. That’s probably the trick.

His heart is in his throat, just like it was earlier tonight when he finally, _finally_ heard the footsteps on the roof once more. It was both a blessing and a curse at the time, and this moment carries the same exact sentiment.

He mindlessly runs his tongue alongside hers and slowly migrates hands that were grasping her shoulders down her clothed back and then even _further_ to her barely covered backside.

Rey _squeaks_ when Ben finally cups her ass roughly, the noise going straight to his groin. They both open their previously closed eyes at the same time, the sound breaking the haze of quickened lust.

What is Ben _doing?_

Both of their emotional states are in shambles. Rey, apparently, is an adrenaline junkie. She’s excited and upset about what’s she’s been doing this past week. Ben is confused and frustrated. The week was _hell_ for him. When there were noises, they drove him crazy. When he realized it was her, and she stopped breaking in, he went crazy then too. 

What is wrong with them?

Obviously, _something._ They both have a screw or two loose in the brain.

And yet, despite all of these faults, Ben continues to stuff his tongue down her throat, and hers down his, a low set moan emerging when he grinds against her.

_That_ sensation is magical in itself, and he does it again and again, until Rey pries her mouth from his to pant down to the ground. Ben takes pity in the moment, giving her a break and quickly scans the patio for a better location to…

Well, he’s not really sure _what_ they’re about to do.

Rey seems to have a good enough idea, though.

There’s a red and gray sleeping bag towards the corner of the concrete deck, Ben guesses it’s for late-night stargazing, and Rey’s dragging Ben towards it with both hands.

He realizes with every lust-fueled step that this is what _she_ wants; what _Rey_ has planned.

But Rey doesn’t deserve what she wants. Not _quite_ yet, at least.

So instead, he lightly pushes them over to the slab that connects the slope of the roof, tall enough that Rey’s ponytail bumps against the spackled wall and cushions her head.

“What-“

Before she can question Ben’s motives, his mouth descends once more, and Rey’s so out of breath that she grabs at his tank top with desperation, rocking and grinding against the bulge in his khaki shorts.

If Rey continues her rhythm, Ben is a fucking goner. He’ll be screamed and creamed in less than five minutes.

_It’s been a while, alright?_ Ben defends himself to absolutely no one.

One hand remains in a death grip on Rey’s ass while the other rounds to splay across her stomach, tank top pushed nearly to her breasts. Ben kisses her the entire time, hyper focused on the task at hand (pun _not_ intended) and is desperate to push the situation to his favor.

His fingers graze the elastic waistband shortly before they dive in without hesitation.

Rey does break the kiss again, gasping when Ben starts to swirl and circle in a tantalizing pattern, her grinding now focused on the slim digits rather than the ridiculous erection he’s sporting.

Her small hands dig into Ben’s bare shoulders and her fingernails are a little _too_ long. He can already feel the little crescent shaped cuts beginning to form.

And when his fingers move further south and promptly push into her, two of them might he add, Rey _screeches._

His hand groping her ass quickly comes up to muffle Rey’s drooling mouth. Or maybe that’s _his_ drool.

Any other time that notion would be utterly disgusting.

But right now, Ben couldn’t care less about drool.

Waking his parents, or her grandfather, is a real concern. Not like the drool. Rey must realize it too, and squeezes her eyes shut, all sound completely muffled by his palm.

He thinks at first, she’s shutting her eyes to stop her moaning, but the vibrations against his skin tell a _very_ different tale.

Rey is _screaming_ into his hand. On purpose. Not in pain, not in fear, but in _pleasure._

_That’s right._

Risky is the name of the game for Rey. The more dangerous and suspenseful the situation, the better.

He stops all movement.

She might be a junkie, but Ben is _not._

“Rey,” he says in a serious tone, “you _need_ to keep quiet. Or else I’ll-“

Her hazel eyes await whatever he will say next. And she’s still screaming oh my god.

“I’ll stop. All of this. And go to bed and forget about you.”

_That_ gets her to shut up. And not a minute too early. The pool’s patio lights suddenly turn on, the lamps casting a light glow on Ben’s and Rey’s feverish bodies above.

“Hello? Is there someone out here?”

It’s Leia. She must have woken up and heard something. Maybe the footsteps on the roof. Or Rey moaning into the summer air. He hopes to god it was the footsteps.

Ben can’t see his mother. He assumes she’s looking around the pool and the bit of land beyond the deck either for a person or animal.

“Oh well…must have been a bird hitting the window again,” he hears Leia sigh out, as the lamps dim, and the back door closes with a final _thud._

He lets out a breath of relief. That was a close fucking call.

Ben was so scared; he swears he softened a bit.

Rey, on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, is so wet that his fingers are basically swimming in her lace panties.

He removes his palm from her mouth, a quiet moan leaving Rey. She doesn’t look ashamed. She almost appears to be a little…angry?

“I need to-“ she stutters, “I _have_ to yell, i-if I want to, _you know.”_

Ben frowns a little. “To _what?_ I can’t get caught up here by my parents, or _worse,_ by your _grandfather_ who would fucking _skin me alive_ if he realized what I was doing.”

The concern bounces around in Rey’s head. It’s like she’s never spoken to a normal person, where getting caught _would_ be the worst thing in the world. After a ten-second think, Rey shrugs and looks back up to Ben.

“Fine. I’ll be quiet.”

“Great.” His fingers move again.

“ _But but but!_ ” Rey’s hand stills his.

“You have to…pull on my hair.”

Ben blinks a couple times, trying to process what she said.

“I…what?”

“You have to pull on my hair. Hard. And when I tell you to.”

If participating in Rey’s kink is a way _not_ to get caught then, sure, whatever. It can’t be worse than your parents discovering you on the roof, fingerbanging the neighbor’s granddaughter.

Ben leans down to kiss and suck at her neck in response, letting out a quiet “okay” before his hand _really_ begins to move.

All over Rey’s face, Ben can tell, she’s trying _so_ hard to hold back. He’s pumping the entirety of his two fingers, hitting knuckles every other second. She’s tight, much tighter than any girl he’s been with, and Ben gets harder with every agonizing thought of _after_. What will happen _after_ she comes on his fingers, writhing in pleasure and pain. Which she will.

Her breath shudders when Ben curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes Rey’s entire body flinch with every thrust.

She’s getting close. Ben can tell. Her body has practically melted into his, the other hand squeezing and pinching her small breasts over the tank top. There’s a slight thrumming in her throat, which Ben is still latched on to and it takes him a minute to realize she’s _speaking_.

Ben’s spine fully stretches to its six-foot-three height and he tries to hear whatever she’s moaning out.

“Ben… _please_ …”

His thumb swirls her clit at her plea. Rey groans because it’s not _exactly_ what she meant, but it feels good anyways.

“M-my hair, _now.”_

Oh yes. The deal.

Ben’s hand stops it’s squeezing and reaches up to her wispy auburn locks to seize her ponytail. His fingers lightly graze her scalp and then Ben _pulls_ with such strength, her neck careens all the way back.

“Ah, ah!” Rey whines to the sky, her body stopping completely in time, back bowed and hands clenching his biceps with fervor. She comes on his hand, just like Ben predicted, the pain mixing with pleasure into one irresistible concoction.

She slumps forward after in defeat, Ben catching her with quick arms.

Rey doesn’t appear as dangerous when she’s pliant and quiet; like witnessing a toddler finally sleep after hours of a devilish tantrum.

He removes his fingers with haste, gathering up her exhausted body and slumping her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.

Ben has caught the ghost. The nuisance. The thief. The pain that’s been stuck in his ass the past week.

Yes, he’s not _completely_ satisfied. On the contrary, he’s hard to a point where it’s painful. But he’s satisfied in a different way.

Ben has two options.

a. Carry her down the spiral stairs, across the ranch, plop her on the soft grass of her grandfather’s pasture and go home. No more risks. No more concerns. Rey’s received the thrill of what _she_ wanted. He’ll go jerk off the remainder of his poor decision.

or

b. Set her immediately down on the sleeping bag less than a foot away and fuck her so hard that stars will appear in both her eyes and the sky.

It shouldn’t be a difficult choice.

But for Ben, it _kind of_ is.

He’s already acted enough out of character tonight. Regular Ben would have _never_ joined her on the roof. Regular Ben wouldn’t have said those things to _anyone_ before he kissed them like his life fucking depended on it.

And regular Ben would most definitely _not_ bang some chick he’s known less than a day on the roof of his parent’s winter vacation house.

The options weigh heavy on him. Ben’s legs slowly move over to the staircase as millions of stupid, battling thoughts race through his brain. All the while this happens, Rey is muttering incoherent nonsense into the cotton of his shirt, _extremely_ confused.

Also, her cunt is practically dripping onto his shoulder. And that does _not_ help option a’s argument.

This whole thing is stupid. Ridiculous. Ben is a grown man. He can do whatever the hell he wants.

_Fuck it._

Large feet swivel from their place on top of the staircase and Ben carries Rey back to the corner of the deck, carefully laying her down on the sleeping bag.

A grin is fixated on her face.

“I was wondering what the hell was going on back there. Having seconds thoughts, big boy?”

Ben gulps. Where the hell does this girl get her bravado? From Satan?

“No,” he says, while readjusting his seated position in front of her, “I was just…looking at the moon.”

Rey rolls her eyes, obviously not believing his fib, and ninja-star throws something at his face which promptly lands in Ben’s lap. He picks up the small, foil object to realize it’s-

“A condom? Where the hell did you get this?” Rey’s shorts have no pockets. Where was she keeping a _condom?_

Her grin grows even larger when the hand hidden behind her back appears, holding Ben’s _wallet_.

_You have got to be kidding me-_

“When the fuck did you steal my wallet??”

Rey’s giggling so much at this point, that the question falls on deaf ears.

Holy shit Ben really _is_ about to break rule zero:

_Never stick your dick in crazy._

“Oh, calm down, bonehead.” Rey finally says after her fit. “While you were monologuing or whatever to the moon, I reached into your pocket and grabbed it. You didn’t even flinch. I’m surprised no one’s stolen it before, if you can’t feel someone’s hand on your ass.”

Ben doesn’t have the strength to tell her that actually, _yes,_ he has been pickpocketed. Several times. Mostly in Europe.

So, she’s crazy, but crazy with an objective at least.

He sighs, far too horny and far too gone to be angry. At least he _had_ a condom on him. Ben’s not sure he could walk down the stairs to fish one from his overnight bag at this point.

Rey suddenly sits up and pulls Ben down so that his back lays on the sleeping bag rather than hers. Dainty fingers pluck the condom from his hand as Rey straddles him with minimal effort.

“Since you appear to have… _doubts,_ I’ll make this easier for you.”

Her arms crisscross and yank up, her scrap of a tank top removed in less than three seconds.

_God_ , her tits are so damn _perky._ And round and-

Ben’s grabbing at them before a second thought, Rey moaning and smiling at his touch.

“I think- _ah-_ this might be a little _unfair_ right now.” She grabs at the hem of Ben’s shirt and he gets the hint, sitting up a little to remove it in the same fashion she did with hers.

Rey’s eyes blow wide when they catch his naked torso. It’s not a sight she hasn’t seen before, if it was her in the bushes all along, but the effect is different when you’re close and can _touch._

“Do you…uh…work out? By any chance?”

“Yea, I go to the gym back home. Usually for my, uh. My cosplays.”

Rey’s eyebrow quirks at _that._ “You cosplay? And you said _I_ was fucking weird??”

“It’s not weird! I only do masked characters, it’s not the same!”

Okay maybe not the _best_ defense to say to the girl who’s about to ride you.

“So…you’re a furry?”

Oh god, no, _wrong answer back up hold on wait-_

“No, _no_ more like Kurei Mori o-or Ichigo Kurosaki or-“

“Ah, I got it. You’re a _weeb_ ,” Rey says with finality.

“I’m sorry, would you like to continue to make fun of my interests or…?”

All she does is squint at him in response, their banter both dimming and enraging the heat shared between them. It’s weird for Ben to not be romantic or gentle, and there’s still _way_ too many clothes being worn right now.

Rey shimmies out of her shorts and panties, kicking them to nowhere. Ben lifts his hips to remove his shorts and Rey helps, yanking them down like it’s part of her nightly routine.

Similar to Ben’s body and demeanor, his dick is huge. He’s done the ridiculous sizing contests. He’s watched enough porn. He’s dated enough girls who whimper at the sight of him. Ben _knows_ he larger than most.

But for Rey, there’s no fear in her expression. She bites her lip, absolutely famished.

_Does she think I’m a fucking challenge or something??_

Her tiny hands grasp at him and start to pump, and Ben is so thrown by her swiftness that he chokes out a sound perhaps _too_ loud for the tranquil desert night.

Now Rey places a hand over _his_ mouth. “If you’re not quiet, I’ll go to bed and forget about you.”

Talk about getting a taste of your own medicine.

Ben nods slowly, her hand dropping to help the other roll the condom over his cock. He has to bite his lip to muffle whatever may come out of his mouth.

And when Rey sinks down, inch by inch, her cunt swallowing his entire length, they _both_ bite back groans.

Ben was right. She is literally the tightest he’s ever experienced. It feels like her pussy is all but suffocating him, and he’s worried about lasting more than fourteen seconds.

Especially when Rey starts to bounce like the world is ending and this is the last fuck she’ll ever get.

“O-oh, _shit,_ holy _shit,_ Be-Ben. It’s almost- _fuck!-_ it was al-almost too _big,_ ” she moans out, inflating Ben’s ego to the heavens.

Which, speaking of heaven, is _exactly_ where Ben has ascended to.

The pleasure is almost too much, blinding, one might say. Every time he feels her clit meet his taught stomach, the grip on her hips grows tighter and bruising. Her energy is insatiable, and the playing ball is _not_ in his field, even though it initially was.

Ben needs to take control again. Sure, she’s riding and _technically_ topping him, but there are ways for him to seize the situation.

The next time Rey is about to slide all the way down from the tip, Ben bends his knees, props his legs up, grabs her ass and then _thrusts_ up to meet her in time.

“ _Fuck!”_ they both say in synchronization.

The change in angle hits that same spot in Rey’s cunt from earlier, and she starts to clench furiously with every pump, slowly leaning farther and farther down, jaw all the way dropped until her bare chest meets his.

Ben hears her mouthing pleas and cries against his chest as he pistons into her like a jackhammer. Rey _has_ to come first. And he’s hell-bent on making sure that happens. He picks up the pace even _more_ and Rey loses control of her hips as they smack into Ben’s thighs.

Her whining is getting higher and higher in pitch and he can tell she’s close. Only problem though, it is that Ben is close too, possibly more so than Rey.

There’s one last-ditch effort Ben can do that’ll ensure Rey will come first.

Like he did only ten minutes ago, one of Ben’s palms leaves her hips to wrap around the loosened ponytail and _tugs_. Hard enough that her entire torso lifts off his but not hard enough to cause any real damage.

It appears to do the trick because Rey is sobbing and clenching and coming harder than before.

Her orgasm comes in delicious waves, one crest after the other, as her body reacts to the sting of hair being pulled and the rhythmic pumping of his cock. It’s the ticket to Ben’s release, and he’s more than happy to accept.

Ben pumps into her faster and faster as she slumps against him, worn and used. “Oh, _sh-shit!_ Fuck!”

The wash of his orgasm is a relief; as hot as it is cooling, and Ben can feel the release from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes. The weight of having this strange girl wrapped delicately atop his chest prolongs the sensation and Ben doesn’t know why.

Ben sucks in deep breaths of hot air, the stars above their exhausted bodies gleaming with phosphorescence.

There’s so much sweat, Ben realizes, and it reminds him that is still _94 fucking degrees outside._

How neither of them passed out due to heat stroke is beyond him.

But the warmth must get to Rey, because she rolls off the top of him, body against the cool concrete and taking regulated breaths much like him.

_Arcturus_ is glowing even brighter than before.

**

“That was - _wheeze-_ a lot of - _wheeze-_ fun.”

Ben turns to face her as she speaks up to the sky, chest rising up and down. This is the calmest they’ve ever been together, truly enjoying the twinkling night and dry air.

He’s peeled off the condom and gotten back into briefs, the thought of laying bare-ass naked with nothing but a sticky condom on not the most _appealing_ idea.

For some odd reason, a question pops into Ben’s head. It’s more curiosity than anything.

“This is probably the worst moment to ask you this…. but do you have the things you sto- _removed_ from our house?”

Rey’s breath catches. Her brows furrow, then she sighs and reached behind her to the cloth grocery bag that’s shoved into the corner.

She grabs the bottom of the bulging bag, turns it upside down and _all_ the things that have gone missing over the past week land between them. Soap bottles, bowls, utensils, even the _Friends Season 3_ DVD collection thumps down onto the sleeping bag.

Rey looks down at her pile of guilt, still completely naked and a blush on her cheeks and chest.

“…sorry.”

Her knees rub nervously together as Ben sifts through the stuff and takes account of things his parents would eventually notice had disappeared.

But now it’s _Ben_ who feels guilty. She’s been just as bored as him, stuck here in the middle of nowhere Scottsdale. Who can blame her for trying to mix it up a little?

“It’s alright. Seriously. But maybe you can come into our house when _we_ open the door for you.”

She laughs at that. “Of course. No more breaking in for me, I swear.” Rey lays a hand over her heart. “My life of petty crime is over.”

“Good to hear you’re coming clean-”

Tomorrow is Ben’s last day of vacation. And the thought hits him mid-sentence.

“Oh shit. Hmm.”

Rey doesn’t understand what’s got him caught up. He doesn’t want her to worry.

And Leia could probably change his plane ticket….

“Ah it’s fine. Sorry about that.” Ben stretches arms up, pushing the problem of his 9 am tomorrow flight time to the back of his head.

“Do you…want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? You could bring Obi, of course.”

Rey smiles softly, a twinkle in her eyes much like the stars.

“And invite for me? How could I refuse?”

They’re both grinning like stupid, weird fools when the sun rises and bathes the Arizona landscape an hour later.

Maybe the desert isn’t _that_ boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Arizona babes. ❤️
> 
> I loved writing this one-shot. It was a lot of fun and very out of my comfort zone. I want to stick to my longer, more intriguing stories, but if any of you are interested in more smutty one-shots, let me know! Comments really get me going eehhee. 
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/dachenabritta)


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